Recovery
by icanhasallthebenedicts
Summary: John turns to drugs after Sherlocks fall. Sherlock returns to John and attempts to help him out of his addiction while struggling with his own.
1. Chapter 1

John sat in his little, red armchair in 221b. He was drifting in and out of a haze. The army doctor was never one for substance abuse, except for that one time in the war. Ever since Sherlock left he was quite susceptible to the temptation. John stumbled across the stuff while he was sorting through Sherlock's things, ever since that day it became part of the routine.

John was slowly coming out of the fog that kept the image that haunted him from the forefront of his mind. As he came back to reality he could feel the grief and sorrow rushing back rapidly. He never intended to plunge into this habit, though he would admit that he does not wish to get out of it, and so he injected again.

The drugs helped him sleep and survive the day, once work was over of course. He saw them as a necessity, really, how else was he supposed to live with the memories?

He was delving deeper into the haze now. He had the most disorientating dream; He saw Sherlock enter the room with his jacket collar up and a cold, look in his eyes. He did in fact, look very much alive. John had thought that it was really Sherlock. He could hear Sherlock's footsteps as he strode to where John was sitting, he could feel Sherlock's hands caress his face and pull him close, and he could feel Sherlock's breath on his ears. John felt comforted by this Sherlock until he looked at him once the embrace was over. Sherlock's eyes had turned dead and he started to fade away. John tried to reach for him but he was out of reach. John always tries to reach for him but he is always out of reach.

After these dreams John is usually miserable but he will suffer through anything to see Sherlock again, no matter what the consequences are. For the moment that Sherlock is with him, John forgets it all and it's as though he and his flatmate are in 221b like is was all those years ago.

John never really knew how long he'd been gone for. Occasionally he'd come round to a plate of food, which would rarely get eaten. That day he awoke to nothing which is strange, as john can be out for long periods of time, he usually is awoken by his work alarm. He checked his watch and saw it was only six. John decided he would make himself a cup of tea, he didn't know what to do after that; he was rarely in the house and sober at the same time.

He entered the kitchen and saw that Mrs Hudson had left him a bag of food and other necessary day to day things that John never really bothered about. "Mrs Hudson is a dear," John mumbled to himself as he brought out a pack of Pg Tips and a carton of milk.

As he put the kettle on and plunked the tea bag into the mug he reached up to grab another mug, and realised what he was doing before putting his hand back down.

"Not going to make me a tea John?" Asked a very familiar voice.


	2. Chapter 2

Every single hair on John's body stood on end the moment he heard that mans voice. _How the bloody hell can that be Sherlock? I saw him fall. To the pavement. Off a building. Dead. There is no bloody way this is Sherlock Holmes!_ John thought to himself.

John's body was static, he wanted to move but he wasn't sure he could face what stood behind him. _How can this be happening, I am sober aren't I? _John thought.

"Will I have to make myself one, John?" asked the unknown voice.

John's hand reached into the cupboard and brought out a cup. He began to prepare the second tea. His hands were shaking but he added two sugars, just like Sherlock likes it. The kettle boiled and John poured the water and added the milk. "I see you still remember how I like my tea, John," added the unknown visitor.

Johns' words were caught in his throat and his limbs were jelly but he managed to pick up the mugs and turn around.

There he was, just as John remembered him. Same jacket, same blue scarf, same hair, same everything. _This can't be real_, thought John_, there is absolutely no way this is Sherlock Holmes standing in front of me right now._

John stretched out his arm in order to offer Sherlock the tea but held on tight as he was convinced this was hallucination of some kind. Sherlock's' arm raised and took the tea from John.

_Okay, this is real, what the bloody hell? What the fuck do I do now?_ John asked himself in a panic.

Johns' eyes narrowed onto Sherlock's face. He clenched his hands into fist and his furrowed his brow angrily, "Who the hell are you?" John asked angrily, as though it were a command rather than a question.

Sherlock's face twisted with guilt and he looked down at his shoes.

"John, I am Sherlock," said Sherlock softly.

"THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE," bellowed John, "I WATCHED HIM KILL HIMSELF!"

"That's not quite true, John," Said Sherlock, looking up at John now. His eyes we full of grief and guilt.

Sherlock took a step closer to John and put his tea down on the kitchen worktop, "how can I prove to you that it's me?"

"You tell me," said John while putting his tea on the counter next to Sherlock's.

_There is no way this man is Sherlock Holmes, _thought John_, I watched him die. Would Sherlock really have let me succumb to what I have become in order to solve one of his cases?_ The thought pained him too much to think about. He wanted to leave, inject and forget the situation completely.

Sherlock watches John's thoughts whirring around in his mind. He felt guilty but decided it was time to prove he is, in fact, Sherlock Holmes. "What you've been injecting yourself with is _my_ heroin. You've developed a physical dependency on it and I can see that due to the slight twitch you've developed on your right arm which is more obvious in situations when you become stressed, like now for instance. You're developing goose bumps merely an hour after your last dose which shows just how dependent you are as goose bumps are a sign of withdrawal symptoms. When you're having your hallucinations you see me and you cry, the image of me always distracts you and because of this you haven't been able to hold a job for more than four months," Explained Sherlock in his usual matter of fact tone, but something was different about how he said this; he looked saddened and as though he wished he was wrong.

John's jaw dropped, he was shocked. "Could this really be Sherlock?" He wondered, "It must be, who else could know all of this?"

John looked down at the ground and back to Sherlock who had taken a step closer. John moved closer to Sherlock and said, "I believe you."


	3. Chapter 3

John was so relieved to know that his friend was alive. Then again, so many questions filled his head;_ how did he fake jumping off a building? Why did he fake jumping off a building?_

After asking himself all of these questions and more John turned from feeling relief to anger. "I hope you're about to explain yourself now Sherlock," growled John.

Sherlock's face turned from one of relief to one of despair. He began to tell his story of what lead up to him faking his death, how he faked his death and where he had gone for so long. John listened intently without interruption until the very end.

John could feel his bottom lip quiver, his face blush and his eyes water. Sherlock's facial reaction to John did not make him feel any better. Sherlock closed the gap between him and John and put his hand on John's Shoulder. John didn't know what to do, he wanted to smack away his hand and at the same time throw himself into the detective's arms.

"John, I am so, _so_ sorry, I honestly am," Sherlock looked John straight in the eyes as he said this.

A tear fell from John's eyes and Sherlock wiped it off of his cheek.

"I just, can't believe- I _knew_ you weren't a fraud! How could you leave me for so long?" John asked as more tears rolled down his cheeks.

Sherlock brought John in to a hug. John's cheek fell perfectly into place in Sherlock's shoulders. John was torn, he wanted to come apart right there in Sherlock's arms but he couldn't help but feel anger and betrayal.

John knew he couldn't' be angry at Sherlock for very long. After all, Sherlock did everything to protect him. John decided the right thing to do was hug back, tightly. John could feel Sherlock's deep breaths in his hair while John nuzzled his nose into Sherlock's chest.

Nothing like this had ever happened between the two flatmates. John had never felt particularly comfortable hugging men, and as far as he knew he wasn't interested in them either, as for Sherlock… Who could really say? But John felt right in this moment in time. He felt just like he did before Sherlock left. He knew never to take the feeling of happiness for granted ever again.

"John," mumbled Sherlock with his mouth pressed against John's head.

"Yes?" asked John as he looked up.

John met Sherlock's gaze and they stared at each other. John was nervous. John asked himself a flurry of questions, _I know what I want to happen but does Sherlock want that to happen? But I'm straight for god's sake, aren't I? Well it doesn't look like it now does it? Why are my hands so sweaty?_

Sherlock's face gave nothing away; this always made John so anxious. They stared at each other for a moment longer before Sherlock's head lowered into Johns and their lips met.


	4. Chapter 4

The blood in John's body was hot and he could feel it. He had never experienced this rush that he was getting from kissing Sherlock, not from any of his past girlfriends, no one could ever make him feel like this. All the hairs on his body were on end and when Sherlock slid his hand across John's back and rested on his lower back he could feel shivers being sent down his spine.

Sherlock began to pull John closer and closer until they were pressed against each other. John could feel Sherlock's hips pushing into his. John opened his mouth to let out a slight moan and Sherlock took this as an opportunity to lick across John's bottom lip. John slid his tongue into the Sherlock's mouth and they explored each others warm, wet mouths.

John grabbed Sherlock by the hair roughly to pull him deeper into the kiss. Sherlock let out a large moan which excited John. John ripped off Sherlock's jacket and threw it across the room into the living room and did so again with his scarf. Sherlock placed both of his hands on John's bum and pushed John's groin into his own. They both began to breathe heavily now as they rubbed against each other. John's hands ran down Sherlock's torso and lingered just above the belt line.

Sherlock pulled back to look at John. Sherlock's eyes were full of lust. The look sent shivers down John's entire body. "Good thing you're not wearing a belt," Said Sherlock lowly. He then undid John's trouser button with one hand and resumed kissing him. John blushed and hoped Sherlock wouldn't notice him blushing, which he did, and fumbled trying to undo Sherlock's belt. John could feel Sherlock's lips turn into a smirk as he undid his own belt and button for John.

"Show off," mumbled John embarrassedly.

"Always," replied Sherlock in between short but rough kisses.

Sherlock slid his and into John's trousers which were now just hanging on to his waist. He grabbed John's hard cock and began to slide his hand from the base to the top and back down again.

John let out a whine of pleasure. John was breathing even heavier now. "The way you moan like that is _very_ arousing John," said Sherlock as he quickened the pace of his hand.

John was powerless to do anything, the pleasure he was receiving was greater than anything he had felt before. "I need to stop before I come," thought John, embarrassed at the thought of finishing so quickly.

He grabbed Sherlock by the wrists, spun him around and pinned him against the kitchen worktop. Sherlock leaned against the counter willingly to observe what John was about to do.

John got on his knees in front of Sherlock. A look of disbelief flashed across Sherlock's face but was then replaced with a look of desire and lust. "What do you think you're doing down there John?" asked Sherlock in a slow and deep voice, which made John very excited to start pleasuring him.

"Why don't you shut up and find out?" answered John cheekily while smirking up at Sherlock.


	5. Chapter 7

John kissed Sherlock softly and lovingly and pulled him towards the sofa. They lay there for a time that was unknown to them. John had his Sherlock back and he was filled to the brim with joy. He didn't care how long he had been lying there for, he was now happy. Their hands were entwined and their eyes locked John's arm was in pain_, must be from lying on my arm for so long_, determined John. He moved his arm and winced as this arm throbbed with the slightest movement.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow in reaction to John's wince. "What?" asked John, even though he knew the answer to his question.

"You look like you're in pain," stated Sherlock, "So I wanted to know why."

John knew what was wrong with his arm. He would feel like this at work or whenever he hadn't had his fix in a while, it wasn't necessarily the arm but the pain was always the same. "My arm's fallen asleep and I don't like the feeling," explained John.

"That's a lie!" retorted Sherlock angrily, "Honestly, why do you even bother lying to me at this point? I already know what it is!"

"Then why did you bother asking me in the first place?" aAsked John, annoyed that his bluff failed.

"I thought this was something we should talk about," answered Sherlock.

John glared at Sherlock and curtly said, "Well there is nothing to talk about, you should have been able to deduce that."

John quickly got off of the sofa and left the room. He felt like storming off somewhere but he had no where he could really go, he had lost contact with Lestrade and his other friends, he didn't have a girlfriend's house to stay at as he hadn't had a girlfriend since Sherlock left. He went to the kitchen to prepare another mug of tea.

He reached and grabbed a mug for his new brew and heard Sherlock walk in. "Bone and muscle pain, as you displayed in the bedroom, along with lying. Distancing from friends, I can see as you're still here. You seemed angry enough to leave but you didn't because you have no where to go. These are all text book signs of heroine withdrawal symptoms, John," Sherlock explained in a tone which sounded both guilty and factual.

John turned to face Sherlock, "You leave for three fucking years and you expect me to be just the way I was before? Three fucking years, Sherlock! I thought you were dead! If you think watching my best friend, the man who I had been in love with, fall to his death and be able to carry on living with that memory wouldn't change me then you aren't as clever as you think you are!" John cried while he waived his hand which was still holding the mug.

"Looks like we have, hostile behaviour toward loved ones," to add to the list too then," said Sherlock lowly as he looked away from John.

"Oh, okay, you can go ahead and fake your death and then blame the way I turned out on me, it makes perfect sense!" exclaimed John sarcastically as he slammed the mug onto the worktop and turned his back to Sherlock to carry on making the tea.

"I just want to help you, John," said Sherlock as he sighed and looked towards the ground.

"I don't really think I need any help," retorted John swiftly while popping a tea bag into the mug.

"Well you wouldn't, would you?"spat Sherlock cynically.

John picked up the sugar and put two spoonfuls into his mug. "Look, I'm not blaming you, John, I just want to help you stop. We both know this addiction is affecting you badly now," clarified Sherlock.

"These were yours you know. _I_ got them from _you_. We were perfectly happy here in 221b, running around, solving cases and you _still_ took these drugs. If you could take them while things were going good then I can take them when things are shit!" shouted John with a furrowed brow.

Sherlock could tell how angry John was. He needed a way to get through to John, if not this argument would never end. "John, I love you but I can't stay here and watch you like this. It will get worse and I won't be here to watch it," said Sherlock with a seriousness John had never witnessed.

"What are you saying Sherlock?" asked John with concern. He of course knew what Sherlock meant but he needed to be sure.

"If you don't at least try to quit, I'm leaving again." Said Sherlock tensely.


	6. Chapter 8

John's palms began to sweat. "How could Sherlock just come into my life and then threaten to leave?" John asked himself hopelessly.

John cleared his throat and turned to face Sherlock once again. "What do you mean you'll leave?" asked John desperately.

"I-I don't want to but I don't want to watch you do this to yourself anymore!" exclaimed Sherlock, "Do you think I like watching you wreck your life?"

Sherlock squeezed his hand into a fist and places it on his hip and leaned against the counted with his other hand.

"Honestly, I don't see the big deal. You did them behind my back. At least you know what I'm up to," snapped John, "How do you think I felt when I found them? I felt betrayed"

John angrily slammed the tea spoon against the counter.

"Stop making excuses, John, it's pathetic," spat Sherlock before straightening his posture.

"Okay, so the person who I am closest to in my life _dies_ and I am pathetic," counters John, "Very good Sherlock, I see you haven't changed from being an arse over the years you were gone," added John as he stormed out of the room into the living room.

Sherlock rolled his eyes dramatically behind John and followed him into the living room.

Sherlock's sighed, he decided to bare himself, his heart, to John. "Before I met you John, I was alone. I had no friends, except maybe Lestrade but I saw him on occasion at crime scenes. Point is I was completely alone. I know the pain that comes with being alone, an outsider. I've been ridiculed and even though my exterior doesn't show it, it does effect me. I do get hurt by it," Sherlock's eyes lowered from Johns, "I don't want you to feel what I've felt. You're too good for that, you're so full of good. You don't deserve it."

Sherlock looked up, trying to keep his tears from falling down his cheeks, and spun on his heel to face away from John. John approached Sherlock with an arm extended and squeezed Sherlock's shoulder.

"I-Um" fumbled John awkwardly.

"It's fine, John, really," said Sherlock sadly.

Sherlock turned around slowly and laced his fingers between John's. "I want you to stop," explained Sherlock while maintaining eye contact with John, "because I love you."

John blushed and the moment the words left Sherlock's mouth he forgot all about his anger, his cravings and his pride. John's lips parted for a moment while he though of an adequate response that wasn't bursting into tears and throwing himself into the arms of the man who stood before him. John's lips met again and he grasped Sherlock's hand firmly as he closed his eyes to hold back tears.

John opened his eyes and flung both of his arms around Sherlock. Surprising the urge to cry, John managed to say, "I love you too Sherlock, I am so sorry."

Sherlock held John tightly and nuzzled his nose into John's hair and breathed in his scent. Sherlock kissed to top of John's head and whispered, "No John, you shouldn't be sorry."

Sherlock pulled John out of the embrace to make sure John saw his face while he said, "It was completely my fault. I left, I watched as you did this, I left the drugs in the house, I hid them from you. I want to help you! I'm sorry for lashing out; I just never want to see you that way again."

John's heart melted, Sherlock's expression was so twisted with grief and guilt that he knew Sherlock meant it with every fibre of his being. "Who would have thought Sherlock Holmes could apologise?" thought John light-heartedly,"I-I want your help Sherlock, I need your help" admitted John before sliding his hands around Sherlock's neck and pulling him into a soft, affectionate kiss.


	7. Chapter 9

That night Sherlock slept by John's side. Sherlock never often slept but as this was the first time in a long time that he was at peace, he slept. John, on the other hand, did not. He lay next to Sherlock. He had every intention of sleeping when he nestled himself next to Sherlock for the night but soon realised that it was in vain. _At least Sherlock managed to fall asleep before he noticed me like this,_ thought John.

Aches ran sharply throughout John's entire body. He counted the hours he had gone without the drug in his system. Eight. John had a vast knowledge of drugs, he had to learn about them in his medical courses, though he never expected how intense the pain would be. The pain was not the only thing that bothered him, he suffered from bouts of extreme hyperactivity and then fell down suddenly to a state where he was too exhausted to even rearrange himself so the aching could stop. Even with the exhaustion he could not sleep.

_This shouldn't be affecting me as much as it is,_ thought John, _"I couldn't possibly be as addicted as Sherlock believes I am. Then again, why am I in such agony?_

John tried to count he amount of times he would inject but he would never allow himself to become sober enough to distinguish that he was actually doing it.

John was completely worn out at this time, he was sure it was because of the lack of drugs rather than the lack of sleep. John tried to focus on Sherlock's soft breathing to help him get his mind off of the pain, and it worked, until he began to feel cold. This was a strange cold, moment's ago John was warm, cosy even, it was the only thing that made him feel remotely comfortable and now it was being taken away from him.

John managed to summon the strength to pull the duvet up to his shoulders from his waist but his temperature had not gone up. This was not a normal cold; he felt the cold in his bones. It felt as though noting could warm him. Then the goose-bumps and the shivers came. With every shiver, it were as though a current of pain were being sent down John's body and every goose-bump felt as though he were being punctured by a needle.

John had to rely on his determination and perseverance to carry him through this torture. He knew that in the bedside table, the bottom of the sock drawer to be precise, there was a needle which was full to the brim and ready to be used. John kept them there on the occasion that he awoke in the middle of the night, which was often due to his nightmares, and had a hard time getting back to sleep. He was very close to giving into temptation when a soft and sleepy mumble escaped from Sherlock's mouth which was then followed by a low snort and the thought of injecting left his mind once again.

_Major withdrawal symptoms peak __between forty-eight and seventy-two__ hours after the last dose of the drug_, remembered John, and then mumbled to himself to keep himself focused on something other than the pain. _That means that I have forty to sixty-four hours left of this…_

Eventually the pain wore down and the cold turned to warmth once again. It was about five in the morning and John could feel himself dozing off. He let out a sigh of relief and turned to curl up against Sherlock. John put his arm around Sherlock's torso and dug his nose into his neck. John was finally comfortable after one of the most painful nights of his life. A single tear slid down John's cheek, not a tear of sadness but one of relief as he drifted off, with his love caressed in his arms.


	8. Chapter 10

John was awoken abruptly by a single loud, sharp cough. He opened his weary eyes and was greeted by the sight of a smiling Sherlock holding two mugs of steaming tea. The scent of the tea filled his nostrils and Sherlock's gesture filled his heart. A sly smile swept across John's lips as he propped himself up with his elbow.

"Morning," said John sleepily.

"I noticed you had a bad night," began Sherlock. He looked down into the mugs of tea and blushed lightly, "So I made you some tea."

John smiled grandly, _never in my life would I have thought Sherlock Holmes would act this smitten,_ thought John.

"Thanks," said John.

Sherlock placed the mug on the bedside table by John and sat on the edge of the bed by John. "So how bad was it last night?"

"Quite," answered John while sitting up and taking his mug from the bedside table.

"I can see," said Sherlock with a sad smile, "I'm sorry you know…"

"There's no need to be sorry you know, I _need _this," said John after a long sip of his tea, "I just wish it would be less painful."

"It's painful to watch," said Sherlock emphatically.

John frowned into his tea, "We could sleep in separate rooms for the time being," suggested John.

"No," answered Sherlock almost immediately, "how could I leave you to suffer alone?"

John was taken aback by Sherlock's protectiveness.

"Well I don't know what we can do, apart form wait," said John, more concerned for Sherlock rather than himself.

"There shouldn't be much more of these symptoms," said Sherlock in a factual manner, "I looked up some information while you were asleep."

John couldn't help but smile at the fact that Sherlock cared enough to look up what he was going through.

"Though it didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. If you have symptoms for the maximum amount of time then you would need to go through two more nights of pain," explained Sherlock, "Do you think you can do that?"

John sighed and took another gulp of tea, he suddenly became nervous at the thought of what he was about to say and fixed his eyes onto the rim of his mug, "for you, I can."

Sherlock blushed a deep shade of red which gave a childish aspect to his face which John had not seen often before. The corners of Sherlock's mouth twitched before turning into an uncontrollable smirk of satisfaction. John was amused by Sherlock's reaction and chuckled as he finished the contents of his mug.

John placed the mug onto the night table and leaned towards Sherlock and said, "Thank you for the tea," and placed his hand on the nape of Sherlock's neck and brought him in for a kiss. Their lips met and as John deepened the kiss he could feel the hot flush of Sherlock's cheeks pressing against his.

_I could get used to this side of Sherlock, _thought John_, though he needs to work on his tea brewing skills…_


	9. Chapter 11

The embrace ended and Sherlock made his way into the living room. John followed slowly and was met by Sherlock who seemed to be in a melancholy state of mind on the sofa. "What are you thinking about?" asked John puzzled as Sherlock was just in a particularly good mood.

"I need to start letting people know I'm not dead," answered Sherlock flatly.

"Oh, right…" said John, realising the extent of the task, "Who do you want to tell first?"

"There are only two more people I want to tell," explained Sherlock, "Mrs Hudson and Lestrade."

"Mrs Hudson is going to kill you," said John in all seriousness, "or kick you out," he finished with a pout.

"I know," said Sherlock as he rubbed both of his eyes with one hand and looked John in the eye with a look of hopelessness, "which is why I need you to help me."

"So you want Mrs Hudson to kill me instead then?," joked john as he sad on the sofa alongside Sherlock.

Sherlock looked at John and let a smile creep across his face, "She is going to kill me, isn't she?" groaned Sherlock as he covered his face with his hands and let himself fall onto John.

"I've already known for two days," said John while putting his arm around Sherlock and pulling him in closer to cuddle, "Which means I am also dead."

Sherlock put an arm around John and nuzzled his face into John's jumper. He breathed in and thought about how much he missed John's scent while he was gone for so long. He appreciates it so much more now. He pressed his face into John's chest and with a muffled voice asked "Will you help me?"

John looked down to see Sherlock's face but all he could see was the top of his head. John shook his head and asked with a chuckle, "Why would you think I wouldn't help you Sherlock?"

Sherlock repositioned his head so he was looking up at John. "Because it's going to be hard and possibly painful," replied Sherlock, half serious.

"Don't be silly, I'd do anything for you!" said John and leaned forward to kiss Sherlock's forehead.

Sherlock blushed violently and pressed his face against John's chest once again. "I never thought you would be the type to blush Sherlock," admitted John while a smirk played on his lips.

There was a pause before Sherlock pressed himself harder against John's chest and muttered a barley audible, "Shut up!"

John managed to pry Sherlock away from his jumper so he could see Sherlock's incredibly flushed face. John opened his mouth to say something but giggled at the sight of the man who he always believed to be a cold hearted machine, blushing an impressive shade of red.

"Don't laugh at me," whined Sherlock with a pout.

"Heh- fine, I'm sorry," apologised John, barely able to speak without laughing, "I was going to ask, when do you want to tell Mrs Hudson?"

"Well… Preferably today," replied Sherlock while settling into John's chest again.

"Oh no, really?" asked John as he ran his hand through his messy morning hair.

"It would be favourable," said Sherlock admittedly.

John sighed._ I am not up for this after last night, _thought John_, but Mrs Hudson does deserve to know…_

"When do you want to do it?" asked John unenthusiastically.

"How about now?" suggested Sherlock.

John looked at Sherlock and reluctantly agreed before the men both changed out of their pyjamas and made their way down to Mrs Hudson's flat.


	10. Chapter 12

The men were dressed and trotting down the stairs until they reached Mrs Hudson's door. The men paused and looked at each other as they both came to the realisation that they hadn't discussed exactly what they would say to Mrs Hudson, whether Sherlock would go in immediately, they had no idea. They stared at each other in silence before John frantically whispered, "What on earth were you planning on doing when we got here?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrow and knocked on the door rapidly. He opened the door whilst shoving John through it before slamming the door behind him and waiting outside. _Oh god that dick_, thought John angrily. John straightened himself and called out for Mrs Hudson.

Mrs Hudson was sitting in her quaint sitting room which was a haze of pink and lace. She was in front of the fire in her small, pink arm chair. She looked back to see who had called her and her face lit up once she had seen John. "Hello, John dear," said Mrs Hudson in her usual warm and caring voice, "Can I get you a tea?"

"No thank you," said John awkwardly as he walked over to Mrs Hudson's loveseat which was to the left of her armchair.

"Sit down sweetie," Mrs Hudson motioned for John to sit.

John sat down and leaned forward to engage with Mrs Hudson better. John opened his mouth to speak but Mrs Hudson beat him to it, "You're looking very good John," she said brightly, "How are you handling… everything?"

The tone of the conversation became slightly more sombre than it would have been, had anyone else asked John this question. John of course knew she was referring to his addiction but thought that this was a good opportunity to work Sherlock into the conversation.

"Well, I think you'll be happy to know that I quit…" said John slowly, thinking about how he would incorporate Sherlock into the explanation without being too upfront about things.

Mrs Hudson's hands shot up and covered her awe stricken face in disbelief. "Oh, John!" She cried as a tear ran down her face.

She moved her hands away form her mouth to reveal a beaming smile. She wiped away her tears of joy and sniffled as she asked, "How long have you been?"

"Well it's not very long," said John admittedly, "Not very long at all now that I come to think about it…"

"Well something is better than nothing!" she said encouragingly, "Go on John, how long?" she insisted.

"Well I quit yesterday," said John embarrassedly, "It sounds a bit silly to say I've quit after barely twenty-four hours…"

"Nonsense!" cried Mrs Hudson as she threw her hands up. She looked down to the coffee table by John and continued softly, "I remember… I remember when I would visit you upstairs and you would be completely gone," her tone had now changed completely from her usual cheery self to a more serious and wounded woman, "You would call out for S-Sherlock. I tried talking to you, comforting you but you barely knew I was there so I just left you things for when you came back and hoped it would get better. Of course it didn't but I knew that one day you would stop," a soft smile came upon her face as she made eye contact with John again and asked, "What made you stop dearie?"

John knew now was the time to tell her, he felt the blood rush through him as he panicked to try and find the words to explain everything but nothing came out. There was a pause as the two just stared at each other. The noise of the door opening broke the two away from their conversation. Both Mrs Hudson and John looked back to see, none other than, Sherlock Holmes standing by the doorway. "I made him stop Mrs Hudson," said Sherlock in his low, hard voice.


	11. Chapter 13

Mrs Hudson head looked back to John from sheer shock and continued to stare at John for a long moment before she found the courage to turn towards the voice at the door again. She turned slowly with her eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed together before slowly opening her eyes to reveal Sherlock Holmes standing before her. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth slowly but her hand lingered over her chest. "S-Sherl…" Mrs Hudson's tight and choked voice cut half way through the sentence to let out a small sob.

Her hand moved from its hovered position over her chest to her mouth quickly to try to stop herself from crying.

Sherlock took a long step into the room and paused before walking quickly over to Mrs Hudson and crouching by the side of her armchair. Tears were streaming down Mrs Hudson's face quickly and with shaky hands she wiped them away. "You can't really be Sherlock! He's dead! Who are you?!" Mrs Hudson demanded rather than asked.

"Let me explain," offered Sherlock while attempting to comfort Mrs Hudson by grabbing both of her hands and holding them in his.

Mrs Hudson swatted Sherlock's and away angrily and reached to the end table that was next to her armchair to retrieve her glasses. She hurriedly smashed them onto her face and grabbed Sherlock by the chin and examined his face with a stern glare. A look of understanding and disbelief shot across Mrs Hudson's face but it was quickly replaced with anger and watery eyes. "Sherlock Holmes, I am going to kill you if you don't get out of my flat, RIGHT NOW!" Shrieked Mrs Hudson, Sherlock shot up from his prior crouched position and took quick steps towards the door while Mrs Hudson continued to shout obscenities at him.

John had remained still and quiet throughout the whole episode but decided it was time for him to leave, to let Mrs Hudson cool down and to comfort Sherlock. He stood up and Mrs Hudson turned to him and asked, "Where do you think you're going? I need someone to explain to me what on earth just happened!"

_Oh god_, though John as he sat back down onto the sofa in disappointment. Mrs Hudson sat down on her armchair and they were sitting as they were before Sherlock had entered.

Mrs Hudson spoke first, "So would you care to tell me what on earth just happened?"

"Uhh-" John struggled to remember all of the details but after fumbling with his words for a bit and correcting himself quite a few times, he was able to retell the whole story. Mrs Hudson had been listening with her mouth half open and tears continually streaming down her face. Once John had finished she felt extremely guilty for the way she shouted at Sherlock.

There was a pause after John had finished and he decided it would be best to look for Sherlock, "I guess I'll be going then," said John awkwardly as he rose.

Mrs Hudson's tear stained face looked up at John and asked, "Tell him I say sorry, please"

"Oh course Mrs Hudson, no problem," replied John as he smiled softly.

Mrs Hudson sniffed and wiped her eyes as John left the room and made his way back up to 221b, feeling rather guilty about leaving Mrs Hudson.

John entered the room and saw Sherlock lying on the sofa with hands on his chest. John would have thought he was asleep if it weren't for the face that John knew Sherlock barely ever slept. One of Sherlock's eyes opened to look at John and he sprung up from the couch and strode over to John. "Is she okay?" asked Sherlock with a great intensity in his words.

"I explained everything to her," explained John, "She says she's sorry for shouting at you…"

The corners of Sherlock's lips twitched momentarily into a smile, "The only woman in all of London who would apologise to someone who faked their death," laughed Sherlock.


	12. Chapter 14

John sauntered over to the couch and slowly lowered himself down onto the soft, leathery fabric of the sofa. He let out a sigh of relief as the pain that was searing through his skin was soothed. He allowed his head to lull back and closed his eyes. He had been trying to ignore the pain to help Sherlock but now he was indeed grateful for this rest.

Sherlock stood by the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the frame with a strewn across his face. He knew that John was still feeling the pain and, even though he knew it would be wrong, he wanted to let him do it again to feel relief. Sherlock knew how bad it felt, he had tried to quit many times for John. The truth was that he and John had quit at the same time, he was just a lot better at pushing his pain to the back of his mind and focusing on other things.

Sherlock made his was into the kitchen and put the kettle on. The noise made John look up from his comfortable position inquisitively. "What are you doing?" asked John.

"Making you tea, obviously," answered Sherlock as he clattered with the mugs and sugar.

"You never make tea," said John, shocked.

"And you've never tried to give up heroine," countered Sherlock.

"That's very sweet of you Sherlock," Said John as he allowed the warm sense of being loved fill him and ease his pain.

John allowed his head to lull back to its former position and before he knew it Sherlock soft lips were kissing him awake. John kept his eyes closed and let the detective continue to press his supple, luxurious lips against his lips and neck. Sherlock's lips made their was up to Johns ear and purred, "Stop pretending to be asleep, your tea's getting cold," and chuckled softly as he pulled away and curled up next to John.

John placed a pillow on his lap and leaned forward to get his tea and sipped calmly. He rested the mug on the pillow and rested his head onto Sherlock's shoulder. "Sherlock," said John slowly, "When did you quit?"

Sherlock exhaled sharply, knowing that John would ask sooner or later and answered, "At the same time as you."

John's mouth gaped open as he turned to look at Sherlock, "But you seem completely fine compared to me," Said John confused, "Are you okay?"

Sherlock let a small sigh escape his lips, "You know how well I can control what I feel, John…"

John was beside himself in the sadness that coursed through him when he imagined Sherlock being in as much pain as him. He was guilt ridden when he though of how he let Sherlock look after him even though they were both going through the same thing. "But you slept so well the past few nights," said John, trying to rationalise how Sherlock could be dealing with this so well.

Sherlock took a gulp of his tea and nestled closer to a very warm John. "The thing is," explained Sherlock, "I wasn't really asleep."

The blood rushed to John's cheeks as he realised that Sherlock was awake when John was tempted to relapse in the middle of the night and his mumbles were intentional.

Sherlock deduced John quickly and added, "Don't worry everyone gets tempted at first."

John crumpled up his nose in embarrassment at being so easily read and being so easily tempted. "I can't believe you've been looking after me all of this time while you've been just as bad as I have," mumbled John guiltily.

"If you think about it my way, I have the ability to push all feeling and emotions to the back of my mind and ignore my body so technically I don't suffer as much as you might, therefore it is my duty to look after you, John," Explained Sherlock plainly, as though it were obviously the right thing to do.

"But you need to feel something Sherlock, don't lie!" Said John doubtingly.

"I can feel a lot less than you," said Sherlock as he ran his hand through John's soft blonde hair, "besides, someone needs to look after you."

"I'm a doctor, It's my job to look after people," stated John, hoping Sherlock would see this as a reason to let himself be looked after.

"Precisely," replied Sherlock promptly, "You spend all day looking after people so I must look after you when possible!"

John threw back a few gulps of tea and put his mug onto the coffee table. He pulled Sherlock close and allowed him to rest on John's weak and sore body. Sherlock moaned in relief and allowed himself to relax in John's arms. John lowered his head and breathed in the delicious scent of Sherlock's scruffy curls. "We can do this Sherlock," sighed John, "We can do it together!"

Sherlock's was incapable of keeping a straight face so he reluctantly allowed his face to curl into a soft smile and blushed, "yes, John."

John's mouth lingered on Sherlock's head. Sherlock looked up at John and their lips met. Both the men felt their pain momentarily slip away as their lips parted and their tongues danced in each others mouths. John moaned into Sherlock's mouth and he felt Sherlock smirk. John pulled away and gave Sherlock one last kiss before happily saying, "It's nice to have someone looking after me."


	13. Chapter 15

John made his way to the couch and slowly lowered himself down onto the soft, leathery fabric of the sofa. He let out a sigh of relief as the pain that was searing through his skin was soothed. He allowed his head to lull back and closed his eyes. He had been trying to ignore the pain to help Sherlock but now he was indeed grateful for this rest.

Sherlock stood by the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the frame with a frown strewn across his face. He knew that John was still feeling the pain and, even though he knew it would be wrong, he wanted to let him do it again to feel relief. Sherlock knew how bad it felt, he had tried to quit many times for John. The truth was that he and John had quit at the same time, he was just a lot better at pushing his pain to the back of his mind and focusing on other things.

Sherlock made his was into the kitchen and put the kettle on. The noise made John look up from his comfortable position inquisitively. "What are you doing?" asked John.

"Making you tea, obviously," answered Sherlock as he clattered with the mugs and sugar.

"You never make tea," said John, shocked.

"And you've never tried to give up heroine," countered Sherlock.

"That's very sweet of you Sherlock," said John as he allowed the warm sense of being loved fill him and ease his pain.

John allowed his head to lull back to its former position and before he knew it Sherlock soft lips were kissing him awake. John kept his eyes closed and let the detective continue to press his supple, luxurious lips against his his. Sherlock's lips made their was up to Johns ear and purred, "Stop pretending to be asleep, your tea's getting cold," and chuckled softly as he pulled away and curled up next to John.

John placed a pillow on his lap and leaned forward to get his tea. He saw Sherlock had made him a sandwich to go with it. "Aw, thank you Sherlock!" John said in surprise.  
"Well I saw it was past lunch time so…" said Sherlock shyly.  
John rested the plate on the pillow and rested his head onto Sherlock's shoulder. "Sherlock," said John slowly, "When did you quit?"

Sherlock exhaled sharply, knowing that John would ask sooner or later and answered, "At the same time as you."

John's mouth gaped open, with a mouthful of sandwich, as he turned to look at Sherlock, "But you seem completely fine compared to me," said John confused, "Are you okay?"

Sherlock let a small sigh escape his lips, "You know how well I can control what I feel, John…"

John was beside himself in the sadness that coursed through him when he imagined Sherlock being in as much pain as him. He was guilt ridden when he though of how he let Sherlock look after him even though they were both going through the same thing. "But you slept so well last night," said John, trying to rationalise how Sherlock could be dealing with this so well.

Sherlock took a gulp of his tea and nestled closer to a very warm John. "The thing is," explained Sherlock, "I wasn't really asleep."

The blood rushed to John's cheeks as he realised that Sherlock was awake when John was tempted to relapse in the middle of the night and his mumbles were intentional.

Sherlock deduced John quickly and added, "Don't worry everyone gets tempted at first."

John crumpled up his nose in embarrassment at being so easily read and being so easily tempted. "I can't believe you've been looking after me all of this time while you've been just as bad as I have," mumbled John guiltily.

"If you think about it my way, I have the ability to push all feeling and emotions to the back of my mind and ignore my body so technically I don't suffer as much as you might, therefore it is my duty to look after you, John," explained Sherlock plainly, as though it were obviously the right thing to do.

"But you need to feel something Sherlock, don't lie!" Said John doubtingly.

"I can feel a lot less than you," said Sherlock as he ran his hand through John's soft blonde hair, "besides, someone needs to look after you."

"I'm a doctor, It's my job to look after people," stated John, hoping Sherlock would see this as a reason to let himself be looked after.

"Precisely," replied Sherlock promptly, "You spend all day looking after people so I must look after you when possible!"

John threw back a few gulps of tea and put his mug onto the coffee table after finishing off his sandwich. He pulled Sherlock close and allowed him to rest on John's weak and sore body. Sherlock moaned in relief and allowed himself to relax in John's arms. John lowered his head and breathed in the delicious scent of Sherlock's scruffy curls. "We can do this Sherlock," sighed John, "We can do it together!"

Sherlock's was incapable of keeping a straight face so he reluctantly allowed his face to curl into a soft smile and blushed, "yes, John."

John's mouth lingered on Sherlock's head. Sherlock looked up at John and their lips met. Both the men felt their pain momentarily slip away as their lips parted and their tongues danced in each others mouths. John moaned into Sherlock's mouth and he felt Sherlock smirk. John pulled away and gave Sherlock one last kiss before happily saying, "It's nice to have someone looking after me."


	14. Chapter 16

**Authors Note: Heeyy guuuuuuuuuys. I kind of started to hate this fic so I never finished it but then I decided it was time to just suck it up, rewrite it and finish it. Sorry for keeping all of you waiting. xx **

That morning John woke up to see Sherlock staring at him lovingly. "You seem to have slept relatively well," deduced Sherlock with a smile.

To John's surprise Sherlock was right, "Yeah… I did, didn't I?" replied John with a smile.

"Looks like the worst of the worst is over for you my love," said Sherlock happily and celebrated by planting a hard kiss on John's lips.

John chuckled, he was happy to see Sherlock so pleased. "But what about you? Are you better?" asked John worriedly.

"Me?" asked Sherlock, "Not quite back to normal but I'll survive… Having you sleeping next to me last night helped a lot though, your breathing was very relaxing," said Sherlock sweetly.

John blushed and bounced out of bed, he hadn't felt this good in a long time. "Now," began John merrily, "It's time for _me _to look after _you_!"

Sherlock groaned but did not protest as John made his way into the kitchen.

Sherlock followed John and was about to enter the kitchen when there was a knock on the door. Sherlock expected that I would be Mrs Hudson to apologise for yesterday and did not think twice about answering. He arrived at the door and swung it open. Mrs Hudson was indeed there but so was Lestrade. "Shit," breathed Sherlock.

"Don't worry, Mrs Hudson explained it all to me," explained Lestrade.

It was obvious Lestrade was uncomfortable and unsure upon what emotion to feel. After a pause of silence Lestrade strode forward and hugged Sherlock. Sherlock stiffly patted Lestrade's back and was relieved once he had let go. His back throbbed from the pain.

Sherlock turned to Mrs Hudson and smiled sheepishly, she hugged him tightly and he hugged her back warmly. "Mrs Hudson, you're like the like the 5 o'clock news," said Sherlock faux crossly.

"Well how could you not tell Lestrade? He was so upset!" exclaimed Mrs Hudson while putting her hands on her hips.

Lestrade shot Mrs Hudson a deadly glare and blushed. Sherlock turned back to Lestrade and apologised.

While all of this was going on John had made teas for everyone and had brought them out two at a time. First Mrs Hudson's and Lestrade's and then Sherlock's and his. The all moved to the sofa where Mrs Hudson John and Lestrade sat and Sherlock sat cross-legged on a cushion on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. "So, apart from me coming back from the dead," began Sherlock, "I have something else to tell the both of you."  
Sherlock and John made tense eye contact out of the corner of their eyes. Lestrade and Mrs Hudson sat patiently and readied themselves. Sherlock felt tense and hurriedly said, "John and I are also in a relationship."

Lestrade and Mrs Hudson stayed static for a moment while the information sunk in. John and Sherlock stared at each other tensely while they waited for a reaction. Mrs Hudson and Lestrade simultaneously burst into celebration as they stood up and hugged John and Sherlock and congratulated them.

After the outburst was over everyone returned to their seats and discussed how it happened and discussed what would happen in the future, regarding Sherlock resuming with his work and coming out as alive.

At lunch Mrs Hudson went down to her flat and prepared sandwiches for lunch for everyone and they continued to talk merrily and reminisce happily. For the first time in a long time all four of them were happy. They stayed in 221b until supper time. Lestrade left to his girlfriend's house and Mrs Hudson retired to her flat for the night. Sherlock sat next to John on the sofa and rested his head against John's . "There's no food in the kitchen is there?" asked Sherlock.

"I highly doubt it," replied John with a groan.

"Takeaway for dinner?" suggested Sherlock tiredly.

"Yes please," said John as he cuddled up to Sherlock.

That night Sherlock and John enjoyed a Chinese takeaway and spent the night in each others arms in the living room, in front of the fire. That night, for the first time in three years, Sherlock and John slept happily and peacefully.


End file.
